


Chocolate and Cinder

by Oricalle



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Death In Flashbacks (they got better), F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: Gunnthra wakes to find Laegjarn trying her hand at some cooking.  In the process, she's reminded of both the terrors of the past and hope for the future.
Relationships: Gunnthrá/Laegjarn (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Chocolate and Cinder

**Author's Note:**

> This story is meant to be a companion piece to my other Laegjarn/Gunnthra works, and takes place in an Askr where they've both been summoned after their deaths.

As the morning sun streamed through her window, and Gunnthrá slowly awoke, she quickly noticed that something was strange. Her room in Castle Askr was the same as ever, and the typical clear summer weather seemed to continue, but the room itself was colder than normal. As she rolled her head over, Gunnthrá’s suspicions were confirmed. Laegjarn was nowhere to be seen.

Curious, Gunnthrá slid out of bed, walking groggily to the window and scanning the training yard it faced. It wasn’t unusual for Laegjarn to wake early in the morning and go outside to practice her swordplay, especially on a day as nice as this one. Still, even as her vision cleared and the Princess of Nifl leaned against the glass pane, there was no sign of her roommate outside. With a shrug, Gunnthrá pulled the curtains closed and moved to the dresser to begin preparing for the day.

The castle was less lively than usual, with many of the Heroes that lived inside away on assignments. A recent surge in Emblan invasion forces had demanded a sizable response, and Prince Alfonse had taken a number of the castle’s most accomplished generals to fight them back. Laegjarn and Gunnthrá hadn’t been selected for the mission, which gave Gunnthrá mixed feelings. On one hand, she could tell that even after all of her time with the Order, Laegjarn still itched to prove her worth to the cause even more than she already had, and missing the opportunity to participate in this campaign was disappointing. On the other, this meant more time to relax and spend time together, and Gunnthrá had to admit that seeing her girlfriend pout was a tad adorable.

To her surprise, as she walked the vacant halls, Gunnthrá noticed activity from a room she’d never entered before. From a small side passage, she could hear the faint jingling of metal and glass, along with muffled voices. Her curiosity piqued, she made her way to the doorway and rapped her knuckles along the aging wood.

“Come in.”

The chamber was already rather cramped, and as Gunnthrá stepped inside, she could feel herself taking up much of the remaining space. A stone-hewn counter dominated the center of the room, carrying a number of scattered cooking ingredients. At the rear of the chamber stood Princess Eirika, an apron tossed over her usual dress and a bag of flour in her hands. Next to her, looking incredibly out of place, was Laegjarn.

Dressed in a white linen tunic and simple pants, the former general of Muspell smiled as Gunnthrá entered. It was rare to see Laegjarn without at least a bit of protective armor on, as she knew. The princess had never been very comfortable without it, for reasons Gunnthrá didn’t want to pry into. Still, she seemed comfortable here, bringing Gunnthrá to give a warm grin in return.

“Good morning, Laegjarn! And Princess Eirika, it’s lovely to see you!”

“You as well, Princess Gunnthrá.” Eirika dropped the flour onto the countertop, stepping back as a light spray of white puffed out from the top of the bag.

“What might the two of you be up to?”

Squeezing through the narrow gap left for her, Laegjarn made her way past Eirika and to the left side of the counter, gathering a small number of eggs from a bowl as she spoke. “I was speaking with Eirika yesterday about a summer tradition in her world. Evidently, the people of Renais often deliver hand-baked cookies to their loved ones to celebrate the season.”

Eirika gave a nod of assent as Laegjarn finished her task, glancing back up at Gunnthrá.

“I thought I would try my hand at making some to send to Laevatein. I don’t know how well they may keep on the journey to Muspell, but-”

Laegjarn found her explanation quickly cut off by the highly pitched squealing sound emanating from Gunnthrá as she swept across the room, wrapping her arms around Laegjarn and beaming up at her.

“Aww, Laeg! That’s so sweet!”

As her cheeks slightly reddened, Laegjarn could hear Eirika giggling behind her. “Isn’t it? Your sister is lucky to have you, Laegjarn.”

“Hmm.” Though the taller woman quickly averted her eyes to focus intently on the ingredients below her, Gunnthrá caught the ghost of a smile on Laegjarn’s face. “Would you like to join us, Gunnthrá?”

“I’d love to!” Gunnthrá replied. “Unfortunately, I’m not much of a cook...that’s a talent of Hrid’s, not one of mine.”

“You’ll fit right in.” Laegjarn nodded at Eirika. “Princess Eirika graciously volunteered to serve as an instructor today. I didn’t use the kitchens at all growing up, and Muspellian field rations are mostly just salted meats, so it’s a new experience for me as well. Apologies in advance, Princess Eirika.”

“Oh, hush.” Smiling widely, Eirika tapped her fingertips on the side of the glass bowl. “If I can teach my brother to manage to feed himself, you two will have it down in no time. Let’s begin.”

While Gunnthrá had some small cooking experience, wispy memories of ferrying sweets through the kitchens as her mother prepared desserts and helping the castle chefs move containers into the storerooms, it quickly became clear that Laegjarn was bereft of even that. Upon Eirika’s instruction to crack an egg on the side of one of the bowls, the Muspellian general had smashed it entirely in a single crushing blow. Upon seeing Eirika’s expression, she stammered an apology and quickly fetched another egg. Though Laegjarn was, as always, persistent, and by the third attempt she was performing the process perfectly.

Eirika was a patient instructor, her explanations quick and concise but with all the detail Gunnthrá found she needed to understand her. Her own flour-caked hands reminded her, albeit faintly, of home, on days when the snowfall would drift across the castle balconies, and she would grip tight to the railing and channel the magic within her royal blood, trying to freeze the freshly fallen snow into a variety of simple patterns. It had become a method of stress relief during her short reign as queen, keeping her head centered even as she watched the armies of Surtr grow ever larger on the horizon. On the day she had been dragged from her hideaway, there was a blizzard so thick that even she could not control it.

A light jostling knocked Gunnthrá from her thoughts as Laegjarn slid past her, apologizing under her breath as she continued intently whisking the egg mixture. 

“Is your sister a fan of chocolate, Laegjarn?” Eirika asked.

“She is.” Laegjarn chuckled. “It is one of the few joys Laevatein allowed herself. I do hope that the list has expanded now.”

By the time the dough had been formed and the chocolate pieces set within them, Gunnthrá could feel sweat beading on her forehead and the flour stuck to her palms was beginning to itch terribly. Still, she thought, the way Laegjarn freely talked about her sister as she cooked, words and laughs flowing more freely from her stoic roommate than she’d ever seen, it was worth every bit of trouble.

“Hey, Laeg?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

Laegjarn smiled. “Thank you.”

As Gunnthrá lifted the tray of unbaked cookies off the table, Eirika quickly turned around and groaned. The princess hurried over to a dusty appliance near the room’s rear and opened it, frowning at the sight.

“Ugh. I apologize. I should have started the oven earlier. Thankfully, I’ve been practicing my casting…”

Eirika pulled her hands in front of her face and began to slowly trace arcane symbols with her fingers, watching as glyphs began to materialize in the air before her. While Gunnthrá wasn’t familiar with Magvel’s magic traditions, something about the process seemed wrong to her. 

“And...Fire!”

A jolt of mystical energy burst forth from Eirika’s fingertips, weaving through each of the glyphs in turn as it journeyed towards the oven. With each moment, it grew larger, burning brighter, waving unsteadily in the air before darting suddenly into the open oven. With a flash, the magic exploded, and flame burst forth.

_The heft of Surtr’s gauntlet pushed her deeper into the snow. Gunnthrá could feel it already, the unnatural heat of the King of Flames surging forth from his body. Each breath she took hovered in the frozen air, hovering above a battlefield stained red with the blood of her guards._

_Her countrymen._

_Her friends._

_Surtr’s laughter boomed like thunder from over her shoulder._

_Before her, Fjorm stood, a small army of unfamiliar faces at her sides. Her younger sister, ever brave, had come to save her, and been only hours too late._

_As the flame began to roar, the first embers of Surtr’s execution falling onto the bruises on her arms, Gunnthrá resolved not to falter. She would not let Fjorm see her cry._

_In her final moments, despite the searing pain engulfing her body, despite the urge to scream, or to struggle, or to beg for mercy, Gunnthrá kept a smile on her face until the flames consumed her._

A loud crash resounded through the kitchen as something landed at Gunnthrá’s feet, bursting and scattering across the floor.

“Gunnthrá!” 

Laegjarn was at her side in moments, her crimson eyes wide. 

“Gunnthrá, are you alright?”

As reality filtered back in, Gunnthrá looked down at the remnants of the tray she had suddenly dropped. Her skirts were splotched with much of the cookie dough, the rest lying in a heap surrounded by the shattered cookware.

“Oh...I’m...I’m so sorry!”

Eirika stood before the oven, batting at the flame with a towel. “No, no, it’s not your fault! I didn’t expect it to be that powerful, I understand if you were startled!”

Laegjarn’s hand made gentle contact with Gunnthrá’s arm. She tried to move to return the gesture, but found herself stuck in place, her body unwilling to obey her commands. She could see the concern plain on Laegjarn’s face, and felt a deep wave of shame for being unable to allay it.

“It’s...it’s alright! I’m fine.” The statement felt wrong, like an uncomfortable heat in the pit of her gut. “But the cookies...I’ve ruined them, I’m-”

“It’s no trouble. We’ll make another batch.” Eirika had crossed the room as well, the oven’s flame now under control. It flickered in the corner of Gunnthrá’s eye, a taunting reminder of her failure. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Gunnthrá backpedaled, leaving Laegjarn’s outstretched fingers dangling in the air. “I’m quite alright. I...I simply need to wash this off. I apologize again for the inconvenience, I’m rather clumsy!”

Turning on her heels, Gunnthrá quickly opened the door and stepped out of the kitchen, moving as quickly as she could while maintaining a steady composure. The halls were more occupied now, with heroes going about their daily schedules as the early hours of the afternoon began. For her part, Gunnthrá was steady, as she had always been. She possessed a great talent for looking constantly at ease, an inspiring figure for her people in dire times. Her inner turmoil remained where it had always been, pushed so deeply down that no one could see it from the outside.

When she had finally reached her dormitory again, the mask fell. Gunnthrá half climbed, half fell into bed, sitting upright against the backboard with her knees pulled tight to her chest. Her fingernails dug into her legs, making red divots in her skin as her torso heaved with every breath. An uncomfortable tingling sensation covered her body, goosebumps risen with the terrible sensation of burning. She could remember it, as if a phantom sensation, a specter of the horrible pain that had ended her life.

Shame stung at her eyes. This was foolish. Surtr was long dead, and she was with the Order now. Why did she still fear his phantom? Why did unexpected fire still make her heart leap in her chest? Why was she so-

The door slowly creaked open. Quickly unfolding herself into a sitting position, Guunthra affected a casual posture as Laegjarn entered, her brow furrowed.

“Thra?” Laegjarn’s voice was uncommonly soft as she approached. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course.” Gunnthrá forced a giggle. “Just...taking a break. That floor is so hard!”

Laegjarn paused a moment before she climbed atop the bed, sitting next to Gunnthrá with a look of concern. “Eirika says we’ll need a new batch of ingredients, so I asked her if we could take a second try at the cookies tomorrow.”

Gunnthrá’s eyes dart downwards. “You could have stayed. I’m-”

“You’re crying, Gunnthrá.”

The breath hitched in Gunnthrá’s throat as she blinked, suddenly aware of the moisture on her eyelids and the tears staining her cheeks. Laegjarn slid closer, folding an arm around her back. “Was it the fire?”

Gunnthrá nodded. “I’m sorry, it was...foolish of me to act that way. It just...it reminded me.”

Laegjarn’s grip grew tighter, squeezing her close. “Not foolish at all.” She could feel the heat radiating from Laegjarn’s body, a side effect of her royal Muspellian blood. Coming from Surtr, it was terrifying, but with Laegjarn, the warmth was pleasant. A reminder that she was with someone who cared for her.

“That day hasn’t left me,” she whispered. “I still feel it sometimes. Like I’m burning.”

Laegjarn nodded. Her hand began to make circles on the small of Gunnthrá’s back, pressing gently as a reminder of her presence.

“I know I should try to forget, to move on, but I keep seeing Surtr’s face in every shadow. Every flame feels like it’s going to ignite me. I’m not strong enough, Laeg.”

Twisting her body, Laegjarn sat to face Gunnthrá, gently framing her face with her hands. “Listen to me, Gunnthrá. This has nothing to do with strength. What my father did to you was senseless and cruel, and I don’t want you to ever judge yourself by it.”

“That’s...kind of you to say.”

“Of course it is. Those are your words, Thra.” Laegjarn smiled, a gentle chuckle coming from her throat. “You’ve said the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions. And if it applies to me, I don’t see why it shouldn’t mean the same for you”

Laegjarn’s fingers rose to wipe away the tears at the base of Gunnthrá’s face as she spoke, the gentle heat of her body still warm on Gunnthrá’s skin.

“You’re selfless, Gunnthrá, and that’s admirable. But you so often forget that you need care as well. Come here.”

Turning on her side, Laegjarn gingerly pulled Gunnthrá close to her, stomach pressed against her back and arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Gunnthrá could feel Laegjarn’s breath gentle against her cheek and, if she was quiet enough, barely sense the gentle heartbeat from the other woman’s chest. Her racing thoughts began to slow as her breaths and heartbeats struggled to match Laegjarn’s, a visible shore in the storm that had been consuming her since the flame brought back the horrible memory.

“Let it out. You can speak to me.”

Tears flowing freely again, Gunnthrá let down her guard and let the emotions pour out.

“I couldn’t even cry. He burned me alive and I couldn’t even cry.”

As Gunnthrá gently wept, Laegjarn’s grip remained firm. She held tightly to her lover, squeezing her close when the memories became especially vivid, whispering quiet words of encouragement and consolement. It was some time before Gunnthrá stopped crying, breathing heavily on the bedspread as Laegjarn gently brushed pink strands of hair with her fingers.

“How do you deal with it?” she whispered.

“Deal with what?” Laegjarn raised an eyebrow.

“Fire. You...you burned too.”

Laegjarn nodded. “Fire has always been a part of me. It came for you on the day you were burned, but I was born in it. Fire reminds me of my father, yes, but also of Laevatein. Of Helbindi. Of everyone in Muspell who deserves a better future than what Surtr deigned for them.”

“Hmm. That’s what I’ll have to do.” Gunnthrá turned, smiling up at Laegjarn with damp eyes. “Change the memory.” She leaned up and placed a ginger kiss on Laegjarn’s lips before sinking back onto the bed, back into the warmth of Laegjarn’s arms.

“I’ll make fire remind me of you.”

_Queen Laevatein,_

_I write to you in good health. I hope my penmanship has improved since the last letter reached you. I’ve been practicing quite intently, though I fear my mentors may just be flattering me. Even if the one helping me write this assures me he is not._

_I am overjoyed to hear that the drought in the northern lands has ended. Perhaps now, with the fortress converted into a farm, there will be surplus food for the dry season._

_In your last letter, you asked me an interesting question. I would love to tell you that I do not think of Father at all, that his passing has put an end to the fear he instilled. But, sweet sister, I believe we both know that it is not so simple._

_Each time there is an itch on a scar on my back, I think of him. Every swing of Niu brings fire akin to Sinmara’s. When I look in the mirror, I can see that I have his eyes. It is terrifying, even for a woman who has seen death itself._

_How I deal with it is a much more difficult question to answer, because the answer is that I don’t, not totally. There are days the fear or the self-loathing overcome me, and I cannot face myself alone. In these times, I must rely on a dear one. Someone who has come to my aid, and I theirs, many times._

_My partner is my sword when I cannot strike, and my shield when I cannot stand. If I can be hers as well, I believe that no foe can stand against us._

_Laevatein, I hope you too know that you needn’t ever fight alone. Friends and loved ones are not a weakness, but a path to even greater strength._

_PS: I’ve attached a container of cookies. One of my allies says that it is traditional in her world to bake them for your loved ones in the summer months. I added more chocolate than the recipe called for, because I know it is your favorite. I hope you enjoy them._

_Love,  
Laegjarn _

**Author's Note:**

> Super Secret Author's Notes:
> 
> -Surtr really is the worst, huh?
> 
> -Big fan of the whole concept of people who have been hurt banding together to care for one another, if you couldn't tell by *gestures wildly* pretty much all my stuff.
> 
> -every time i try to write fluff someone ends up in tears in it how does this happen
> 
> -I know the mage Eirika alt is using a Dark Magic tome, not an Anima one, but she's, uh, a Druid. They get access to Fire tomes. it's canon i said so. 
> 
> I've had the urge to write with Laegjarn and Gunnthra a lot lately, and I've been kicking this concept around since December. I'm fairly pleased with the result, and I hope you enjoy it as well!
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, and I wish you the very best during this difficult time. Thank you so much for reading!


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